


Breath of Life

by blondsak



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Medical Inaccuracies, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Protective Tony Stark, Worried May Parker (Spider-Man), Worried Tony Stark, defenestration of canon as per usual, really just an excuse for me to nearly kill Peter again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:14:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26586451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blondsak/pseuds/blondsak
Summary: “Kid, get out of the way!” Tony yells as he raises an arm to shoot the beast, but it’s too late. The creature leaps at Peter just as the other boy finishes the spell, a solid purple beam rocketing from the book straight for the two of them. Tony watches with wide eyes as it wraps around Peter and the creature, swirling until it engulfs them before exploding in a bright flash of light—Tony lifting a hand to guard his eyes.When he lowers his arm, both Peter and the otherworldly creature are gone.“Strange,” Tony croaks out, voice going low and threatening, “where is my kid?”
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 158
Kudos: 348





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Emily_F6](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emily_F6/gifts).



> This fic is an early birthday present for Emily, one of the kindest people in irondad. Her birthday isn't until Saturday, but I'm going to be on vacation in the middle of nowhere for a chunk of next week and wanted to make sure I wrapped up the fic before then :) I hope you enjoy this huge dose of Peter whump, lovely <3

Tony flips on the comm when he’s a minute and a half out from Greenwich Village.

“Pete? You copy? I’m just coming up on Manhattan.”

“Hear you loud and clear, Mr. Stark!” the kid yells, and there’s the sound of something raucous and bearing down like a train in the background.

“Strange sent me a missive in the form of literal _words made of blue smoke_ saying you two could use some assistance—scared me half to death when it formed in the compound lab,” Tony says. “So what’s the deal?”

“Gotta steal a book back from a tween,” Peter says, as if that explains everything, and Tony hears a small grunt of exertion followed by a few _thwips_ from the kid’s web-shooters. “A book of spells from the Sanctum’s collection,” he adds before Tony can ask.

Just then Tony arrives on the scene, only to see it’s utter chaos. There’s a tornado making its way down 6th Avenue, with Peter only half a block ahead of it and swinging fleeing civilians to safety. Down another block he spots some type of massive otherworldly creature—one that sort of resembles a monkey, if it had the head of a lion—jumping from rooftop to rooftop and roaring at the terrified crowds below. Two blocks away from _that_ he finally catches sight of Strange, who is busy exchanging beams with some toe-headed kid holding what appears to be an ancient, leather-bound book and who is surrounded by some sort of shimmering force field that is shielding him from the wizard’s spells. 

“You mean a prepubescent twerp is the cause of all this?” he asks. Peter gives a grunt that vaguely sounds like an affirmative. Even from a distance Tony can see he’s trying hard to focus on getting everyone he can to safety. “Okay kid, I’m gonna go have a quick talk with Merlin. Turning off the comm for now.”

“Got it!”

Leaving Peter to it for now, Tony lands down on the ground by Strange. 

“You’re late,” Strange says in greeting, dodging a beam of green light before sending back a yellow one of his own.

“Not all of us can just magically portal ourselves at will, y’know,” Tony says. “I wanted to finish my tuna salad sandwich first, so sue me. How the heck did a normal kid get his dirty paws on one of your books anyway? Isn’t the Sanctum supposed to be _specially protected_ by your magical mumbo-jumbo?”

“Apparently Wong left the front door cracked open,” Strange says, doing a tuck and roll when a volley of red beams explodes out from the book the boy is holding, heading straight for him.

“Oh, sure, _Wong_ left the door open,” Tony says skeptically, eyeing the man’s attire—or at least one piece of it—dubiously. “Why do I have a feeling that’s a bunch of crap?”

“The Cloak has yet to admit any responsibility for this unfortunate turn of events,” Strange says through gritted teeth, and Tony sees the Cloak cringe in apparent shame as it hides behind its keeper’s back. For the life of him, he’ll never get used to a piece of apparel being sentient. 

“The point isn’t _how_ the child acquired the tome,” Strange continues, “it’s how we get it back before he causes irreversible damage.”

“Have you tried simply _asking_ him to hand it over?” Tony asks with no small amount of sarcasm, sending a repulsor beam of his own toward the edge of the protective force field, grinning smugly when it seems to leave a small crack—the young kid glancing up with wide, worried eyes. It’s obvious to Tony even from a distance that he didn’t intend to cause all this chaos. More likely he was just scared and—now that things were as bad as they were—didn’t know how to stop.

“What do you take me for?” Strange replies. “Of course I asked, but he’s terrified of getting into trouble—which frankly at this point seems rather unavoidable.”

“Well then, did you try _lying_ to the kid and promising he won’t get in any trouble?” Tony replies rather loudly, only for the kid’s face to scrunch up in annoyance.

“I heard that! And I’m not a kid! I’m almost thirteen!” the boy yells at him, before reading something from the book that causes a mini tropical storm to form right over Tony’s head, soaking his suit in seconds.

“Alright, no more Mr. Nice Superhero,” Tony mutters as the large rain droplets ping on his helmet, sending a volley of repulsor beams right at the same spot of the force field he’d targeted before—careful to stay clear of the boy in case any of them make it through the shield. He watches as the protective field starts to crumble away from that one point—the kid’s eyes going impossibly wider as he furiously flips through the pages of the book.

Just then Tony hears a loud roar behind him, turning to see that the lion-monkey creature is no longer on the rooftops blocks away but down on the sidewalk and charging right for him. He’s just about to put a hand up to try to stop its assault when a web comes out of nowhere and hits the creature in the face, blinding it. The attack abruptly comes to a halt as it tries to claw the sticky substance off its eyelids, roaring angrily the entire time.

“You okay, Mr. Stark?” Peter says just as he lands right next to Tony, breathing hard but otherwise looking no worse for wear. 

“All good, underoos. What happened to Dorothy’s twister?”

“Disappeared,” Peter replies with a shrug, but his attention is focused on where the protective shield surrounding the young boy has now almost completely disintegrated, Tony following his gaze. He smirks as Strange wastes no time walking up to the kid—still frantically whipping through the spellbook’s pages—and yanking the ancient work right out of his grasp.

“That was one poor decision after another, young man,” Strange scolds as the boy curses, trying and failing to get the book back—the wizard’s lip turning up as he holds it far above the kid’s head, just out of reach. “My colleague will arrive shortly, and then we’ll see about taking you home and seeing what your parents have to say about today.”

The boy’s defiant anger at having the book taken dissolves immediately into worry—his adam’s apple bobbing as he nervously swallows. “You won’t tell my mom, will you? If she finds out she’ll ground me for a month!”

“Send that creature back to its home and perhaps we can negotiate,” Strange says distractedly, himself now flipping through the book’s pages though with less frenzy than the boy had been earlier. “Unfortunately for us, as the original spellcaster it’s on _you_ to produce the reversal spell.” After a few moments Strange stops flipping and points to something on a page. “Alright, read aloud that one paragraph as best you can. And be very careful of your pronunciation—one wrong word could cause untold damage.”

“I’m not a baby, I know how to read,” the boy says snottily, before beginning to do just that. 

But just as he’s coming up on the last part of the spell, the creature manages to claw Peter’s webbing off its face, roaring with anger as it crouches to pounce on him.

“Kid, get out of the way!” Tony yells as he raises an arm to shoot the beast, but it’s too late. The creature leaps at Peter just as the boy finishes the spell, a solid purple beam rocketing from the book straight for the two of them. Tony can only watch as it wraps around both Peter and the creature, swirling until it engulfs them before exploding with light—Tony lifting a hand to guard his eyes. 

When he lowers his arm, both Peter and the creature are gone.

“Strange,” Tony croaks out, voice going low and threatening, “where is my kid?”

“I’m working on it, Stark,” Strange replies but his voice doesn’t hold its usual confidence, and Tony watches with increasing panic as the man frantically combs through the book. Meanwhile the Cloak hovers over the spot where Peter disappeared, glancing every which way and looking about as desperate as something without a face can. The young boy still standing next to Strange also stares with wide eyes at the empty pavement, seemingly frozen in place.

“So help me, Strange,” Tony growls, pointing a finger at the wizard, “if you don’t get him back here safe and sound in the next thirty seconds, I swear to god—”

“There isn’t a precise counterspell for pulling a specific being from a different plane of existence,” Strange interjects rather haughtily, but Tony can hear the current of concern underneath. All the same Tony’s about to lose his shit on the man—child or no child present—when Strange closes the book with a thud, taking a deep breath. “Without a counterspell for the boy to perform we must resort to other methods. As such, I’m going to attempt a hybrid incantation that combines a rebirth spell and a summoning charm, but I’m afraid I can make no guarantees. Neither spell was ever intended to be used for this purpose.”

“As long as it brings him home from wherever the hell he is now, I don’t care what you have to do,” Tony snaps. 

“You must understand, there may be… complications, the exact outcomes of which I am uncertain,” Strange says, looking about as somber as Tony’s ever seen him—which is saying a lot considering their time on Titan the year before, when Thanos nearly succeeded in his quest to take out half the universe. It had only been pure luck that they along with the Guardians finally managed to wrangle the gauntlet off him. “I just want you to be prepared, Stark. If I was certain we had more time, I would never attempt to–”

“Just get him back here in one piece!” Tony yells, and Strange takes a deep breath, before he hands the boy the spellbook. 

“Hold this, and don’t you _dare_ open it again or I’ll transform you into a newt until the next full moon. Understood?”

The boy nods nervously, taking the book and clutching it to his chest. He and Tony both watch on as Strange closes his eyes and starts waving his arms in the air, whispering words in a magical language that Tony can’t decipher the meaning of.

He jumps back when there’s a crackle of what sounds like thunder, closing his eyes at another flash of bright white light. When he opens them again it’s to the welcome sight of Peter sitting on the ground, peering at him with wide lenses.

“Thank god,” Tony mutters as he walks over, smiling in relief as he offers Peter a hand. “Hey kid. You alright?”

He can see Peter’s mouth open under the mask, but instead of the expected _I’m fine_ or _all good_ that Tony hopes to hear, all that comes out is a wheeze.

“Kid?” Tony asks again, but this time all Peter does is stare up at him and for a moment Tony hates how expressive he designed the kid’s mask to be, as Peter’s panic is readily apparent. The kid tries to stand up but collapses halfway, Tony catching him before he can land on the ground again—the two of them falling down to the asphalt. “Pete, talk to me! What’s wrong?”

But even if Peter wanted to reply it seems he can’t—the teen pounding on his chest before clutching it desperately, jabbing at his sternum with a finger as he tries to breathe in over and over only for nothing but a strangled, weak moan to emerge from between his lips with each attempt.

Just then FRIDAY speaks up in Tony’s ear. “Boss, Karen is reporting that Peter’s O2 and BP levels are decreasing at a dangerous rate. His breathing and heart rate are also outside of normal parameters, similar to that of a panic attack.”

Tony feels his heart jump into his throat. “Is he hurt? Maybe contusions, or–or a puncture wound or hell, broken ribs, or–”

“Karen is reporting zero injuries, boss,” FRIDAY replies quietly. “However she recommends seeking out immediate medical assistance, as do I.”

“Shit,” Tony says, putting his own palm over Peter’s chest as if that will somehow help. Panicking, he calls back over his shoulder. “Strange! Get over–”

“I’m here,” says a voice right next to him, and Tony glances up to see the wizard not a foot away, a look of clear concern on his face as he looks on at Peter before he opens a portal to what Tony recognizes is the compound medbay. “Tell your staff to do what they can. I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

Tony doesn’t even spare the man a second glance, just gets back onto his feet before lifting a still-wheezing and now terrifyingly limp Peter into his arms, stepping through the portal. He barely registers when it closes behind him, just jogs with the kid down the hallway toward the nurse’s station and nearby trauma area.

“Help! I need help over here!” Tony yells, and immediately sees two nurses poke their heads out from the main desk, eyes wide when they see who Tony is carrying. Thankfully they waste no time procuring a gurney, Tony setting Peter on it carefully—heart twisting when the kid tries and fails to clutch at Tony’s hand in some panicked attempt at receiving comfort.

Luckily Tony has better aim—easily catching the kid’s fingers in his and gripping them tightly, squeezing a few times as he tries to provide what reassurance he can. He can see the teen’s mouth is opening and closing underneath the nanites, and as gently yet firmly as he can he says, “Listen Pete, I need you to try to calm down so you can get rid of the suit. Can you do that for me?”

He couldn’t be more proud when despite the teen’s clear fear at not being able to fucking _breathe_ , Peter nods back and closes his eyes—the suit dissolving not a moment later into the small black band on the kid’s wrist. But Tony hardly notices that, too fixated on the alarming shade of dark blue that adorns Peter’s lips and face. 

Seeing the kid’s unnaturally tinted features finally brings it home in a way that hearing the wheezes and feeling the stutters of his lungs had not. Peter is suffocating to death, and for no discernible reason. And if they don’t know the reason, how can they fix it?

It takes all Tony’s self-control not to let his panic bleed into his features, following along with the gurney as it’s wheeled down the hallway and into a suite, the nurses calmly reading out vitals to the doctor waiting inside as the three of them start to cut off Peter’s t-shirt and jeans.

“Mr. Stark, I’m afraid we need you to wait outside until we–”

“I got it,” Tony snaps, then taking a deep breath says more calmly to Peter, “I’m gonna let the professionals do their thing, okay Pete? But I’ll be right outside, I promise. Just stay strong until Strange and I can get this figured out. Can you do that for me?"

He smiles again when Peter nods once more, ruffling the kid’s hair with his free hand, wincing internally when a painful-sounding whistle escapes from between the teen’s teeth. He gives Peter’s hand one last tight squeeze before forcing himself to let go and leave the room.

As soon as he’s back in the hallway Tony collapses against the wall, his suit retracting back into his chest piece as he tries to make himself focus. But focusing is hard when he still has whiplash from how fast everything went sideways—how they could have gone from battling an otherwise harmless child who stole a damn _book_ of all things, to Tony now having to watch as Peter slowly suffocates to death despite having no obvious injuries. 

Just then a portal opens up next to him, Tony lifting his head when Strange steps through, barely glancing at him as he heads toward the suite where Peter is being treated. Tony doesn’t hesitate to grab his arm, halting the man.

“You better fix him, Strange,” Tony harshly demands, then softer, pleadingly, “Please, just—just _fix_ him.”

“I’ll do my best,” Strange says simply, then carefully removing Tony’s hand from his robes, adds, “You’re not the only one who cares for Peter. If there’s a way to save him without causing further harm, then I can assure you I’ll do it.”

He doesn’t respond, and after a beat Strange takes his leave, soon disappearing into the suite—Tony watching helplessly on as the door closes behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all had so many good guesses about what's wrong with Peter in the comments last chapter. I hope you enjoy the explanation!!
> 
> Also special thanks to SpideyFics for making sure the medical discussions in this chapter weren't completely incoherent. You are a gem, Em <3 <3 <3

Tony spends the first hour sitting alone staring at his hands, waiting for any word from Strange or the medbay staff. At one point a lone nurse emerges from the door separating him from Peter, but she pointedly doesn’t look at him—a clear indication that he will need to wait for someone else to tell him what’s going on.

The second hour, he calls May. They’ve been down this all-too-familiar path enough times that she knows better than to demand too many answers over the phone, just says she’ll be there as soon as she can and to let Peter know she’s on her way.

Finally, just as it’s going on hour three, Strange walks out, looking exhausted and perturbed. Tony inwardly braces himself, already expecting that whatever the wizard has to say, he’s not going to like it.

“Did you fix him?” Tony asks, getting right to the point.

Strange rubs at his goatee tiredly. “Walk with me, Stark.”

“Just answer me,” Tony replies, but all the same he gets up and follows the man down the hallway. “What’s going on with my kid?”

“As I’m sure you’ve already surmised, when Peter came back to our world, there was a… glitch,” Strange says.

“A _glitch?_ That’s what you’re calling it? He couldn’t breathe. That's a little more than a glitch to me!”

Strange grimaces, halting to face Tony. “Have you ever heard of Persistent Pulmonary Hypertension in the Newborn, commonly abbreviated to PPHN?” 

Tony shakes his head, perplexed by the question. “Can’t say I have, doc.”

Strange nods, as if he was expecting that. “In layman’s terms, it’s when the blood vessels in a newborn’s lungs have trouble adjusting to breathing air following birth. As a result, their body doesn’t switch over to sending the proper amount of circulation to the lungs to oxygenate their blood, which in turn leads to the child slowly starting to suffocate.”

“And you’re saying Peter has this PPHN?” Tony asks, scoffing. “In case you hadn’t noticed, he’s not exactly a newborn, Strange. Hasn’t been for seventeen years.”

“Magically speaking, as of today he in fact _is,”_ Strange replies. “The hybrid incantation I performed involved a summoning charm and—more pertinent to this conversation—a rebirth spell. When Peter dematerialized from one plane and rematerialized in our universe, his cells were effectively torn apart on a molecular level and then reformed— _reborn_ —here. And sometimes when people are born, things go amiss.”

Tony bites the inside of his cheek, desperately wishing there was a punching bag nearby. But for as angry as he wants to be with Strange or simply the universe for allowing this to happen, he’s more pissed off at himself. After all, the doctor had warned him back in Greenwich Village that the incantation was a risk. But Tony had demanded he move forward anyway without stopping to brainstorm other options. Clearly that had been the wrong move.

“Don’t blame yourself, Stark,” Strange says then, as if reading his mind. “Letting the boy remain any longer in another plane could easily have been far more catastrophic than what we are dealing with now.”

Tony doesn’t respond to that admittedly logical thought process except to grit his teeth. It doesn’t matter what anyone—Pepper, May, Rhodey, Steve, or even Strange—says. When Peter is out as Spider-Man he’s Tony’s responsibility, and for that reason if nothing else he’ll always feel guilty when things go awry for the kid while he’s in the suit.

“So what’s the treatment here? How do we get his circulatory system back to doing what it’s supposed to?”

Strange sighs. “There’s multiple courses of treatment for PPHN depending on the severity. For now, we’re delivering nitric oxide to Peter through a face mask, in the hopes that it will dilate his blood vessels and trigger the circulatory switch. However, if that doesn’t occur soon, we will have to consider more aggressive options.”

“Like what?”

“Like an artificial lung machine.”

Tony puts his hands on the back of his neck, turning away from the doctor in an effort to hide the panic surging up his throat. “Jesus,” he breathes out, taking a few moments to compose himself before looking back at Strange. “Is he awake? Can I see him?”

“We gave him light sedation—for his metabolism, anyway—earlier. He was sleeping when I left, but yes, I see no reason why you can’t sit with him. As for myself, I’m going to head back to the Sanctum and try to find a way to solve things from the magical side, should it come to that.”

Tony nods. “You know where to find us if you figure something out.”

“Of course,” Strange says, opening a portal to the Sanctum, only to turn back. “Oh, and one last thing. Even with the current treatment, I’m afraid that Peter will not appear any better than he did when you saw him hours ago. Cyanosis, or the blue tinge to his skin that you no doubt noticed, is still quite present.”

With that, Strange stepped through and disappeared.

Even with the wizard’s warning, Tony still wasn’t ready for Peter’s pallor when he walked into the kid’s medbay room a few minutes later. Despite seeing Peter’s vitals were stable if not spectacular, it felt wrong to just sit next to him, doing nothing, while he looked so terribly unwell.

All the same, Tony doesn’t hesitate to pull a chair up and pull his tablet out, immediately setting himself to researching PPHN and any cutting edge treatments. With any luck Peter will bounce back on his own sooner rather than later, but it doesn’t hurt to be informed.

* * *

Tony wakes hours later to the sound of soft voices, blinking his eyes open.

“Well, look who decided to join the living again,” May greets him from where she’s sitting on the other side of Peter, who is looking over at Tony with eyes at half mast. 

“Crap,” he says, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep on the job. Hey, May.”

“Job?” Peter asks, voice slightly muffled by his nitric oxide mask.

“The job of making sure you toed the line of sticking around until your aunt got here,” Tony says, then, “speaking of, how are you feeling, kid?”

Peter shrugs one shoulder, breaths shallow and uneven. “Tired. Chest still… feels tight. Hard to… breathe.”

The reply rings a bit too true considering how hard Peter usually tries to be stoic in the face of injuries, and between that and the fact the kid’s coloring is the same pale blue—if not a bit darker—than it was when Tony passed out, tells him everything he would rather not have to know. 

Peter isn’t doing well at all. All the same, Tony puts on a brave face for him, same as he always has.

“Just give that N-O time to work, Pete. You’ll be back to hell-raising in Queens soon enough, I’m sure,” Tony says with what he hopes is a believable smile. He looks toward May to see her smiling back at him, but it looks as forced as his own feels. 

One glance back down at Peter tells him that even exhausted and ill, the kid sees right through the both of them.

“I’m gonna be... just fine, you guys,” he says.

“That’d be a lot more believable if you weren’t doing a very convincing impression of the blueberry girl from Willy Wonka, kid,” Tony remarks. “I wouldn’t be able to pick you out in a line-up of Smurfs.”

“Oh sure, make fun of… the sick child,” Peter quips, lips turning up. 

“Please, you’re going to be eighteen in two months,” Tony says. “Then May can finally toss you out on your ungrateful bum, you little shit.”

“That’s medium shit… to you. I’m taller than… you now, remember?”

Tony’s lips thin. “Can’t prove it. I had FRI erase those records the minute you left the compound the next day.”

“I knew you… would, which is why… I had Karen… download backup files… that night.”

Tony scowls, but before he can respond, May speaks up. “Alright you two, that’s enough. Peter, you need more rest. Tony, you need to do… I don’t know what, but I’m sure there’s something billionaires have to constantly manage. Stocks?”

Tony shrugs. “Number one perk of being a billionaire, May—you can pay other people to take care of literally every single thing you can possibly think of for you.”

Peter snickers, but it turns into a wheezing cough, and one of his monitors starts to beep as his O2 level dips. It stabilizes only seconds later when the kid manages to catch his breath, but even that small jolt of panic is enough to convince Tony that May’s right—the kid needs to rest.

“You heard your aunt, underoos. Get some sleep now, okay?”

Peter nods, already starting to lose his battle with consciousness—eyelids dropping and brow smoothing out. The kid’s completely sacked out in under a minute.

“The nitric oxide isn't working,” May says quietly, grabbing Tony’s attention. She takes one of Peter’s hands into both her own. “I’m worried, Tony.”

“He’ll get better,” Tony reassures her, but the truth is—he has no idea what's going to happen. Because for all his joking, he had been right earlier. Peter looks terrible, a step away from death’s door. 

And what if his body never adjusts back? Tony can’t imagine the kid being stuck hooked up to an artificial lung the rest of his life. Sure, Tony could and would design him the lightest, toughest, most discreet machine possible, but even then, there was no way the kid could ever go out again as Spider-Man. It would be too much of a risk to both him and civilians.

The entire idea of such a future is enough to make Tony want to physically step back from the bed, even as he can’t imagine leaving Peter’s side right now.

No, that’s not what will happen, he tells himself, looking down at where Peter is sleeping peacefully—albeit with stuttered breaths that whistle with every inhale of his overtaxed lungs. 

No, Peter would make a full recovery. Anything less was unacceptable.

* * *

Yet despite Tony’s conviction, it seemed that Peter’s body had other ideas. Over the next two days and nights, the kid’s blood oxygen levels dipped and rose, dipped and rose—never quite seeming to stabilize. 

It wasn’t just Peter’s lungs that were suffering from the lack, either. The strain was having an effect on all of his organs. After all, the kid’s healing factor could do many things, but it couldn’t create its own oxygen. 

The constant battle of his enhancements playing catch-up with what little oxygen he was receiving meant Peter slept most of the time, and was exhausted the rest. It was hard for both Tony and May to see him so fatigued when he was typically full of energy. And of course, the cyanosis didn’t go anywhere—a constant reminder even when Peter was awake and smiling that he was one very sick teenager.

It was on the early morning of day three that Peter’s doctor took Tony and May out into the hallway to discuss the option of an extracorporeal membrane oxygenation (ECMO) machine—the artificial lung Strange had mentioned in the hallway, days earlier. On the upside, the machine would allow Peter’s body to recover by removing carbon dioxide from his blood and replenishing it with oxygen before rewarming it and sending it back into his system. On the downside, Peter would literally be tethered in more or less one position to his bed—the machine taking blood from a valve on the right side of his heart. 

It was just a temporary measure to let his heart and lungs rest, of course, until it was safe to unhook it and try getting his circulatory system to work properly again. But there was no denying it would be hell on Peter to endure in the meantime.

They had just wrapped up their conversation and were heading back in to discuss it with the kid when a portal opened up at the exact same spot where Strange had departed from three days earlier, the man himself stepping through.

“Stark, Mrs. Parker,” he greets, sober and stoic as ever, although the Cloak around his shoulders wastes no time flying down the hall and disappearing into Peter’s room. “I have a proposal I would like to discuss with both of you, if you have a moment.”

“Did you find a way to heal Peter?” May asks, unable to hide the hope from her voice.

“Yes, potentially,” Strange replies. He glances pointedly at Tony. “However, you’re probably not going to like it.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the finale, posted on Emily's actual big day!! Happy birthday friend!!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has left such kind comments on this work. If you haven't commented yet, I'd love to hear what you think about the ending after you read <3 <3 <3

“For the record, I am absolutely against this,” Tony says as he, May and Strange make their way into Peter’s room.

“We’re aware, Stark. You’ve said as much fourteen times already,” Strange mutters just as Peter blinks his eyes open, having been awakened by the commotion.

“Wha’s going… on?” he asks, then when he spots Strange, adds, “Did you find… something to help?”

Strange nods, smiling kindly. “I did.”

“I’d hardly call your little plan _helping_ ,” Tony argues. He turns to Peter. “It’s an absolutely craptastic scheme and you’re not doing it.”

“I think that’s Peter’s choice, Tony,” May says gently. “Stephen, why don’t you tell Peter what you told us.”

Strange takes a deep breath. “Peter, do you recall back in Greenwich Village when I asked the young boy to recite the spell that sent the alien creature—and you, regrettably—back to its plane?”

Peter nods. “You said he… had to do it… because he was… the one who… brought it here.”

“That’s correct,” Strange says. “In sorcery, it is often the original spellcaster alone who is capable of undoing their own work. Even a flimsily performed counterspell will typically produce better results than those of the most skilled of sorcerers, provided it is the same being bringing the magic full circle.”

Peter seems to mull that over for a few moments. “Okay, but… what does that… have to do with… what’s happening now?”

“Well, as I explained days ago, sending someone across planes effectively pulls them apart and puts them back together. As the boy was the one who performed the spell that sent you away originally, I am optimistic that were he to perform the same hybrid incantation as opposed to myself, it would have a more advantageous outcome.”

“But to do that… I have to be sent… back first, right?” Peter says, following along now.

“That’s right, Pete,” Tony interjects before Strange can respond, waving a hand angrily. “Which is why it’s a piss-poor plan. He wants to have that damn tween send you out across the cosmos _again,_ without even knowing where you’re going to end up. And there’s no guarantee that you’ll come back any better off than you are now. Hell, it could be even worse!”

“Is that true?” Peter asks Strange.

Strange nods reluctantly. “It is true that there are risks, yes. However, it is not nearly as dire as he”—Strange motions to Tony—“is making it out to be. Should the young boy perform the two spells, you will likely return to the same plane you were sent to before, and we already have evidence that you came to no harm there. It was my spell which resulted in your current illness, not your presence in the other plane. As such, having the boy do the spell the second time around means you will almost certainly revert back to your original form just prior to being brought back to our universe, most crucially including your circulatory system processes.”

“You’re basing all this off of one instance,” Tony argues. “Scientifically speaking, it could have been a complete anomaly that Peter wasn’t harmed or worse wherever he went. So it’s hardly almost certain things will be just fine this time.”

“Magically speaking, it _is_ almost certain,” Strange says, finally letting his irritation bleed into his tone. “For once you should try staying in your lane, Stark.”

“My _lane_ is making sure that kid over there doesn’t wind up dead because of your negligence!” Tony yells, pointing at Peter.

“That’s enough,” May says in exasperation, holding up a hand. “You’ve both had a chance to say your piece. But this is ultimately Peter’s decision.” She turns to her nephew. “What do you think, sweetheart?”

Peter bite his lip underneath his nitric oxide mask, looking down at his hands. When he glances up his eyes go straight to Tony, and he looks guilty enough that Tony feels his shoulders slump, already knowing what’s coming. 

“I think that… while it might be… a risk, it’s better… than not trying… and staying like… this forever.”

Tony scowls. “Pete, you can’t be–”

“I’ve made up… my mind, Mr. Stark,” Peter interjects, then to Strange, “So when can… we do this?”

Strange nods. “Give me twenty-four hours.”

* * *

The same time the next day finds Tony and May gathered once more in Peter’s medbay room. Peter had earlier dressed out of his hospital gown and into regular clothes, and was now sitting on the edge of his bed, still wearing his N-O mask, while the two adults sat on either side of him.

“Y’know, you can still change your mind, Pete,” Tony says, not for the first time. “We can give the ECMO machine a try first, and see if that does the trick. No need to go plane-hopping.”

From beneath his mask, Peter smiles. “I know you… don’t like this… Mr. Stark, and I… get it. You’re just… trying to look… out for me. But I’m… not going to… change my mind. I trust… Dr. Strange even… if you don’t.”

“And I’m glad to hear it,” a voice says from behind the group, the three of them swiveling their heads around to see Strange appear from a portal, his hands resting on the shoulders of the same kid from Greenwich Village who glances around at the room with wide eyes.

“May, this is Daniel,” Strange says. “Tony and Peter, I believe you’ve already made his acquaintance, albeit under rather dubious circumstances.”

“Ah, yes, it’s the wayward _delinquent_ who caused all this in the first place,” Tony remarks, Daniel eyeing him warily. “You absolutely look like someone I trust with Peter’s life.”

“Don’t listen to… him, Daniel. He’s… just old and… cranky,” Peter reassures the kid, Tony scoffing in response.

“If being appropriately skeptical makes me cranky, then yeah, I guess I am,” he grumbles.

Strange steps forward. “If you’d rather not be here, Stark–”

“I’m not going anywhere, Dumbledore,” Tony says firmly, crossing his arms. He stands up, taking a deep breath. “Let’s just get the show on the road.”

Strange gives him a hard look, before nodding tightly. “Alright. Peter why don’t you go stand in the corner over there. May, Stark, come stand behind Daniel and myself. We need to make sure nobody else gets caught in the initial spell.”

Dutifully, everyone goes to their respective places. Once the whole group is situated, Strange pulls out the same books of spells from days earlier from his robes, thumbing to the correct page and handing it to Daniel. “When you’re ready.”

Daniel nods nervously, looking up at Peter as if for permission to start.

“It’s okay, Daniel… I trust you,” Peter says kindly. Then jokingly to Tony and May, “Here’s hoping I… make it back… with all my… fingers and toes.”

“Har har,” Tony says. “You better, kiddo.”

“We’ll see you soon, sweetheart,” May says from beside him.

“Go ahead, Daniel,” Strange says to the boy.

Taking a deep breath, Daniel starts to smoothly read the spell—Tony getting the distinct feeling that Strange had him practice both incantations between yesterday and now. It makes him feel a little bit better, but not by much.

As soon as the boy finishes reading, a purple beam—identical to the one days before—shoots out from between the book’s pages. It takes everything in Tony not to cry out or move when it engulfs Peter before the same bright white light floods the room, leaving an empty corner where the kid had been standing.

“Alright Daniel,” Strange says, plucking the book out of the child’s hands. “You know what to do.”

Daniel licks his lips, still looking nervous but full of determination. Carefully he lifts his arms up and begins to recite the same incantation Strange had before, waving about in a way that—while stilted and awkward—still manages to be very precise.

As soon as the boy drops his arms, the three adults look expectantly at the corner, waiting for Peter to appear.

But as the seconds pass and the kid doesn’t show, the atmosphere in the room goes quickly from calm to panicked. 

“Strange,” Tony chokes out, feeling a horrifying sense of deja vu, “where’s the kid?”

To his complete dismay the doctor pales, looking uncertain. “I did say it was still a risk–”

“Oh my god,” May brokenly whispers, bringing a hand to her mouth and turning away.

“–and certainly not foolproof,” Strange finishes, taking out the book again from his robes and frantically starting to page through. “There has to be something else here we can–”

“Goddamnit, man!” Tony yells, pulling the book from his hands and tossing it across the room. He jabs a finger in the man’s chest. “May trusted you. _Peter_ trusted you. And now he’s god knows where and it’s all your–”

“Jeez, what’s with all the noise?” a welcome voice says from behind Tony. He whips around to see Peter climbing in through the medbay room window.

“Christ,” Tony says, leaning forward and bracing his hands on his knees just as May cries out, “Thank heavens!”—racing forward and wrapping her arms tightly around her nephew.

“Seriously, Mr. Stark, you do know this is a medical area? You’re supposed to be quiet,” Peter says to Tony over May’s shoulder as they embrace, a grin on his face. He pulls back from May, glancing between all the adults. “I ended up on the roof, but otherwise I think it worked perfectly.”

“So you feel alright?” Tony asks, walking forward himself now and placing his hands on Peter’s shoulders. “Your lungs are doing their job?”

In answer Peter simply takes a large breath, letting his chest puff out before slowly exhaling. Tony notices then how much better he looks—the blue tinge that had been plaguing him since Greenwich Village replaced with a healthier pink.

“Christ,” Tony repeats with no small amount of relief, pulling the kid in for a hug. “You scared the shit out of us, underoos.”

“Sorry,” Peter says into his ear, “didn’t mean to.”

Tony pulls away, patting the teen’s shoulders once just to reassure himself that his kid was there—was solid and whole and safe—before letting go completely. “As long as you’re alright, that’s all that matters.” He turns to Strange, who is picking up the book from where it lay in the corner Tony had thrown it. “Sorry about losing my shit on you, by the way.”

Strange smirks. “Considering the amount of rudimentary weaponry you have at your beck and call, I would venture to say you were rather restrained in your response.” Tony opens his mouth to protest having his tech called _rudimentary_ , but before he can Strange looks down at Daniel. “And now, I think it’s time I get this young man home.”

“You promised me ice cream as payment first,” Daniel says forcefully, a slight pout on his face.

Strange sighs. “That I did, you pint-sized rapscallion. I amend my statement: it’s time we get you to an ice cream parlor and _then_ home.”

Peter steps forward, offering the sorcerer his hand. “Thank you, Dr. Strange.”

“Of course, Peter,” Strange replies, giving him a genuine smile as they shake. “I’m very relieved we can all put this debacle behind us now.”

A few exchanged goodbyes—and one very exuberant high-five between Peter and Daniel—later, the wizard and his charge are gone.

“Well, I don’t know about you guys,” May says, wrapping an arm around Peter’s side, “but I could also go for some ice cream. Any chance you have a few cartons hanging around, Tony?”

“Oh, I’m sure we have some somewhere,” Tony replies with a smile, leading the way as the three of them head out of the medbay and toward the communal kitchen.

“Dibs on Rocky Road,” Peter says.

“You just had to pick my favorite, huh?” Tony mutters.

“Of course I did,” Peter says, laughing. “I’m pretty sure eating you out of house and home is more or less what I’m here for, Mr. Stark.”

“Incorrect, kid. I'm only around for the Spidey tech—it’s May’s job to keep you fed.”

“And deny you the chance to spend your atrociously large fortune on this garbage disposal of a teenager?” May says, smirking. “Absolutely not.”

“Yeah yeah,” Tony grumbles at them both, but there’s no heat to it. “As long as you promise not to disappear to another freakin’ plane of existence on me again, kid—I’ll take it.”

Peter catches Tony’s eye, smile softening. “It’s a deal.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang out with me on [tumblr](https://blondsak.tumblr.com)!


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